The Karma Circle: For Every Killer
by ngrey651
Summary: Inspired by the famous Anti-Gaz "Karma Circle" stories, and Zim'sMostLoyalServant. Gaz won't listen to her brother's insistence that Zim has been dead for months now. She's certain the waxwork of him in the new museum her brother's bought IS Zim. And with their father dead and Dib busy with a new life, that leaves HER alone to make sure the statue really IS just a waxwork...


**Welcome, children. Welcome…to the ****_KARMA CIRCLE._**

**I speak to you now of things beyond the normal, of places and people beyond the scopes of what you may find comfortable. I speak this day of the creeping horrors that lie under your beds, in the farthest reaches of your most desecrated homes. I speak to you of the terrifying terrors you fear in the furthest corner of your eye, lying just out of sight, unseen, but still felt.**

**Horror. Suspense. The atmosphere of**

**FEAR.**** And I speak today of one who has no idea of what horrors they're soon to encounter. One who has wantonly wasted opportunities to better herself and the lives of others. She thinks herself above such "petty" things because she thinks herself above all. And she's going to pay a price for her hubris.**

**Pride. It is the greatest of all sins. When one goes from "I have done well, and all is well"…to "What an amazing person I am to have done that". And Gazlene Membrane is so wrapped in the pride she has in herself she cannot foresee another more horrifying possibility to a question that plagues her…**

"Are you SURE he's dead?!"

The uniformed attendants of Membrane's Wax Museum gave Gaz a slightly annoyed look, one of them rolling their eyes as they lowered the wax statue down to it's basin and properly sealed it in, dusting themselves off as the young woman glanced again at her brother, who adjusted his deep blue glasses and sighed, arms folded across his chest.

They had brought the statue through a large hallway and down a small set of stairs to a slightly lower level which gave off the faintest impression of approaching a dungeon. There were, of course, relics from other less-savory parts of Humanity's past, aberrant bits and pieces not truly illustrative of the species' genius like branding irons, racks from medieval castles, Iron Maidens…all leading to a room off irregular shape with dim lighting by bulbs behind deliberately-frosted glass to give off a further eerie atmosphere.

"Gaz, I told you, it's been months now. He's DEAD. I don't know why you'd think…" He began to say before halting himself, raising a hand in the air. "Okay, I KNOW why you'd think that, but believe me, I of all people would know."

Dib had been looking better than ever now that the so-called Invader Zim had finally been caught, captured, given a slight dissection and killed. It had been a horrifying three-month-long process after Zim had gone just one step too far and had gone after Dib's DAD in an attempt to make use of the smartest human on the planet. Whatever sort of "frenemy" feelings Dib had had for Zim had evaporated when Zim had actually gotten his dad LOBOTOMIZED in an experiment and he'd personally dragged the crippled-in-ten-seconds Zim to Swollen Eyeball Headquarters.

The paranormal investigation society had immediately swelled with pride on the evening news that day, describing how much they were eager to learn from this real alien specimen. And Dib was now head of his father's considerable financial empire. With Zim gone, him vindicated and people now respecting him, there were whole new possibilities opening up. He could devote himself to the endowment of the arts…but in a weird and strange way. Specifically…this kind of museum. A WAXWORK museum.

"This isn't really a big deal, sir." One of the people present finally spoke up to his boss as he shrugged a bit, giving Gazlene and Dib cheery smiles, the former owner of the museum patting them on the shoulder, Gaz giving him a glare. "I mean, my mom OWNED this Wax Museum before you bought it up, I'd do this all the time."

Indeed. Young Keef, a childhood friend, had grown up in this Waxwork Museum and after his mother and father had passed, he'd inherited it. But now he was selling it to Dib at the start of HIS new life, and one had to admit, the two looked great. Dib's jacket was long and dark and newly-stitched, a shined set of boots to match his dark pants, a simple white shirt beneath a slightly over-large tie with Albert Einstein on the front. Keef's clothes were spic and span, carefully brushed and pressed. He, after all, was now mere MANAGER of the museum instead of the owner, and had to keep up a good appearance. Dib would be coming in now and then to check in on new exhibits, of course…so he looked fairly decent.

Unlike Gaz. Gaz, tragically, didn't look anything like that. She looked like she was fighting a losing battle with the world, pale and furtive in appearance, glancing squarely over at one such new exhibit that Dib had been MOST intrigued to see brought in to the museum…over to a new wing…the Paranormal Wing. Bigfoot, Yetis, a Loch Ness Monster, a few ghosts here and there…and now…an alien. Zim the Waxwork Invader. Ruby/maroon eyes, green skin, smirking, slightly pink teeth and an almost stupidly insidious expression.

Out of all the waxworks, Dib felt this one was the only one that, in a way, didn't belong. He'd wanted to put the thing in "Murderer's Row", where all the waxwork scumbags stood on low pedestals with numbers at their feet, all dully-dressed and shabby in appearance but with an odd quality about their faces and eyes that made you shudder and shake. And Zim…Zim somehow gave off that same miasma. But no, no. He was an alien. He was special.

And speaking of "Special", Gaz was vaguely aware Keef was still talking.

"I wasn't even the only one who did it. Mom would have a couple other kids come in a couple times a month. They'd wanna spend the might in "Murderer's Row" and all that. It would mean some extra cash for mom, so she didn't say no. They always ran out screaming eventually though. Except me!" Keef said proudly, batting his chest with his fist as Gaz glanced from him to the waxwork of Zim.

Those eyes. Ugh. They looked like they were following her around!

"Gaz, Zim was EXECUTED. They say it went off without a hitch." Dib insisted.

"I know that but…" She murmured. "…but when they went to dispose of the body, they lost his PAK after they were transporting the pieces, remember? It popped out of the back of the truck and got lost somewhere in the wild?"

"They cut him into CHUNKS, he's dead." Dib insisted, shaking his head. "And why would he be possessing a waxwork?"

"I've felt his eyes on me for months, Dib." Gaz snapped back, wheeling on her brother and poking him in the chest. "I know he's watching me. He was ALWAYS watching me. And I'm gonna prove it. He'll come for me here. And I'll GET him, I'll **GET** him the way I always meant to." She murmured, turing away from him and mumbling under her breath, crooning foul words as Dib shuddered a bit.

"Look, at least let me stay with you just in case some lunatic breaks in to, I dunno, rob the cash register, we've not got the security cameras set-" Dib began before Gaz held up a hand.

"OH no. I can do it myself. I can **HANDLE** this. If I need you I'll…I dunno, call your cell." She said with a shake of her head.

Inwardly, Gaz was not looking forward to this. Her spirit was sickened at the prospect, even as she smiled proudly at the Waxwork in a mocking fashion, as if daring it to strike her here and now. But she didn't have a steady job like her brother, she'd been living on a savings account her father had left her, and going stir-crazy being stuck in her house.

"I've got armchairs and some snacks we can wheel in." Dib offered to Gaz as she gave him a nod, Keef rushing off to get one almost the same shade as her purple hair as she stepped back and waited, Keef finally bringing everything in as she plopped down in it, looking at the waxwork. "Remember, just call me if you get scared, alright?"

Gaz waved another dismissive hand in the air, resting her hands in her lap for a few moments as the others left the room, and time began to tick by. She reached for the small table by her armchair as she munched absentmindedly on some chocolate snacks, eyes staring intently at the waxwork of Zim. Despite it being mere minutes before sundown, time seemed to be immutable as the waxworks, she wasn't even aware that it had already reached 9:00 until she found herself nearly nodding off. She let out a yawn, stretching out as best she could on the armchair, looking from the clock to Zim again, sighing a bit.

The dim, unwavering light from the bulbs fell upon the many figures in the paranormal wing, the Loch Ness Monster waxwork silently hanging far off in the corner of the wing, the Yeti and the Bigfoot growling at each other endlessly, all stock still as Zim was as Gaz finally let out a sad, almost quiet sigh.

She really missed it. Missed…being around other people. Being in school. The stillness was unnatural, ghastly, just not…RIGHT. She missed the sound of other people's **breathing**, the rustling of clothes, the two thousand noises you heard when in a crowd, her brother's silly, stupid voice. She'd take flying into a rage over something dumb he said over this…uncertainty and doubt she was going through, this absolute silence in a place where not even the clock ticked.

"Is this what it's like in the dead of space?" She wondered aloud to herself, rubbing the back of her neck, her amber/golden eyes glancing back up at the waxworks in the room. "…oh for Christ's sake, get over yourself!" She snapped, shuffling the chair to face Zim a bit better. "They're f—king waxworks! Just WAX."

Sure. But waxworks don't move, right? Yet…she was certain she'd seen the Loch Ness Monster slightly glance over in her direction…or was that just because she'd shuffled the chair? She blinked, looking back at the Loch Ness Monster waxwork before turning back to Zim. Geez…his eyes. They seemed almost…mesmerizing. What was it about those eyes that was so hypnotic?

…why did she let this idiot continue to dominate her mind? Dib had long since buried Zim. Why couldn't she? It was silly to think Zim was somehow still alive. Ridiculous. Outright **STUPID.** She sighed, shaking her head back and forth before whipping her head in the direction of "The Wolf Man", who too deeply resembled a former classmate of hers, frowning a bit. Had he…moved as she'd been looking Zim's statue over? Geez. You couldn't take your eyes off these things, she should just get out of here and forget this stupid-

…no, this was dumb. DUMB. They were **waxworks!** They didn't freakin' move! They! Didn't! MOVE!

But…there was still that quiet unrest running through her…that subtle something that was hanging heavy in the air as if a literal knife was hanging over her head. She whipped her head at the statue of the nearest ghost, giving it a glare. "You're just wax, you don't scare me. I could smash you to pieces if I wanted, my stupid brother would just buy another one!"

_Breathing_. Something was breathing?! No, it was her OWN breathing amplified by her fear. She was letting her nervousness get to her. This was crazy. They were WAX! Wax and sawdust, standing up in a silly museum for morbid idiots and-

Zim's gaze was continuing to stare at her. She could feel it. At long last she whipped her head and the chair right at him, furiously hissing. "I KNEW it! I saw you! You MOVED, Zim, I saw you move!"

And with that, she froze up, mouth gaping, Zim leisurely stepping off the pedestal as if he was a little girl stepping off the bus to kindergarten for the first time. He dusted himself off a bit with his black-gloved hands, rubbing the back of his neck as it let out slight "cricks" and "cracks". "Evening, little Gaz. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this chance. No doubt you're probably still thinking this is some kind of illusion, or that perhaps you've just finally snapped after being stuck in a house with bad memories as your only companion, driven mad by a father's death and a lonely existence. You WISH that was the truth. But no…it's just like you said earlier to the Dib-Stink. I am Invader Zim come to life."

He did a few stretches of his arms, yawning as his mouth stretched wide. "You'll have to excuse me, Gazzy. See, I'm really very stiff. Circumstances dictated that I find a different body to do my work in. So when the PAK my self was stored in bounced off into the wild, I sought my way back to this city…and then found this museum. I've been waiting here ever since, hoping to get Dib alone using this wax body…but then YOU come in, wanting to spend the night! I would have gotten to you at your home, but no, your brother's security systems would too easily catch me. But…well, they haven't put those pesky cameras in yet, so…"

He sneered darkly, rubbing his gloved hands together, regarding Gaz's head with interest. "Your brother and I share something in common: we collect things others would never see the use of. We can see treasure where others would see trash. Such is the power of a collector. And I'm quite glad to collect another specimen for a little experiment I've been meaning to try." He went on, taking another step forwards her, Gaz staring blankly, mouth still hanging open. "I'll finally be able to indulge this little thing I had TRIED to do with your father. Didn't quite work the way I wanted, little Gaz, but I'm sure it'll work for you. Your brother caught me just as I was removing the brain, you see…"

His PAK opened up, long, powerful metal spider-like legs extending above him as Zim advanced, his smile growing larger and larger. "The PAK leg. Your species has razors here. None quite as impressive as these. No, those are not a knife. THIS is a knife." He said, patting one of the PAK leg's spikes atop the flat end. "It can cut quite deep, I assure you little Gaz-ling. Now…if you could lower your head a bit as I slice through the scalp? Oh yes, thank you…oh yes…oh _YESSSS_…"

…

…

…

…as sunrise slowly rose over the museum, it began to filter in its morning rays into the museum through the entrance hall's large windows, mingling with the light from the bulbs on the walls, the illumination serving to add to the ghastliness of what was already a horrific scene for Dib and Keef to behold as they stood in front of the paranormal wing, taking everything in.

The waxworks all stood in their places, unmoving and silent, ready to be admired and examined by the crowd that was to wander among them, Gaz sitting in her armchair, leaning far back in the armchair she'd been in, hands gripping the chair as tight as a vice, eyes bugged out, and though there wasn't a single scratch, tear or cut on her body, she was cold and dead.

Zim stood on the pedestal across from her armchair, still smiling stupidly with that toothy grin, eyes unseeing…as was to be expected.

After all…he was just a stupid waxwork.


End file.
